


Pastel Pink Roses

by chanyeolanda



Category: BTOB
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-09 00:12:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1961535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chanyeolanda/pseuds/chanyeolanda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'I know I could be okay with just finding the colors of your iris'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pastel Pink Roses

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://kpop-olymfics.livejournal.com/62130.html) for [](http://kpop-olymfics.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://kpop-olymfics.livejournal.com/)**kpop_olymfics** 2013 cycle, with GaIn's Bloom and supplementary prompts as my... prompt.

Minhyuk played the video back, watching the pretty caramel haired boy on screen glance over his shoulder at a passerby before taking his coffee from a barista and settling himself on a bench.

Minhyuk’s eyes traced the pixels making up angular curves of pink lips on the rim of a paper cup, steam curling up past his face.

The camera focus zoomed in and Minhyuk traced creamy cheeks and parted lips on the screen, the tips of his fingers caressing an angular jawline, tilted up to take a gulp of coffee, the frame then shakily moving to film the bobbing Adam’s apple.

The video came to an end and Minhyuk scrolled down, his eyes skimming over thumbnail upon thumbnail before clicking on another video.  
His hair was a little longer in this one, caramel strands curling at the base of his neck, dark roots showing.

He had a black coat on, his nose pink from the cold as he held the coffee in his gloved hands as if it were the only thing giving him warmth.

Minhyuk frowned, his fingers lingering on chill blushed cheeks, steam and tangible breaths floating around the standing boy like an aura, and once again Minhyuk inwardly scolded him for not wearing a hat.

This video was shorter than the first. The boy didn’t linger.

\--

_lips move along a collarbone, a warm tongue dotting out morse code, trails of wetness burning their way up minhyuk’s neck, muscles convulsing as he swallows a gasp._

\--

Minhyuk sings lightly under his breath as he traces the pink fabric petals of the nearest rose, a string of them hung up on the wall, a tiny glowing fairy light nestled in each one, his finger touching the warmth of the tiny bulb almost contemplatively, half wondering if it would burn him if he left his finger there long enough.

He withdraws his hand before he can find out, as usual. He has no desire to hurt himself. He has no reason to.

His eyes trail idly around the dim room, skimming rough grey walls and skipping black corners. He’s not particularly interested in what the room holds, he’s had plenty of time to explore it. He knows it very well.

His chest expands as he draws in a lungful of air and his eyes flutter closed as he expels it in a soaring note that echoes around the room with its shortly following companions, and behind his eyelids Minhyuk can see animated notes dancing through the fairy lit flowers; minims dancing with crotchets and semi-quavers, a semibreve gracefully bringing up the rear, drifting off with a decrescendo. A corps de ballet in black, dancing pirouettes on the different levels of the staff.

His voice cuts off and his eyes shoot open as he hears a noise upstairs; the opening of a door, footsteps above his head, dim sounds he has to sharpen his ears to hear.

He glances up and then sits up, his eyes trained on the stairs, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he waits.

He waits longer every day, he feels. He doesn’t like it.

\--

_fingers lightly skim his sides and minhyuk’s torso tenses and tries to curl inwards against his will, away from the feather light touches tickling his oblique’s._

\--

Minhyuk was distracted from caramel hair brushing over sunglasses by the innocuous white time read out in the corner of his screen, prompting him to rouse himself from his seat and grab his stuff.  
Soon, he was settled in his usual chair, nursing a cup of coffee (just a hint of milk, one and a half sachets of sugar) and flashing smiles at the blushing girls hiding behind their hands who couldn’t keep their eyes off him.

Just because he could, really, he didn’t have any interest in them. He was here for something (someone) else entirely.

He ruffled his hair, straightened in his seat, and sunk back into it in one fluid movement when he caught a glimpse of familiar caramel coloured hair, tied off a familiar face, the loose bits brushing over the collar of a t-shirt.

He quietly pulled out his camera, checking to see if the dial was set on video before pressing the capture button and watching the little red time count gradually increasing at the top of the screen, his attention more focussed on the person on screen, lips curling upwards and white teeth flashing as he ordered, Minhyuk chancing a glance over the top of his camera, his heart dancing up into his throat as he drank in the sight of the caramel haired boy in reality, before his eyes darted back to the small screen, remembering to breathe as he calmed himself down a bit.

It was like this every time, the butterflies that nested in his stomach took flight, stealing his breath for themselves and exhaling nerves jittering through his body whenever he laid eyes on the boy in person, whenever there wasn’t a screen between them, a buffer from the air around the caramel haired boy that threatened to steal his soul.

It never stopped him from stealing glances over his camera though, quick glances, too quick to be caught, too quick to forget how to breath, always making sure the camera was in focus and filming it’s intended target for his perusal later, when he wasn’t practically dizzy from the excitement of breathing the same air as _him._

\--

_a strangled cut off chuckle twists from his throat, and the feathery touches turn solid, the puffs of air on his stomach turn into a tongue tracing the hard-won lines of his abs._

\--

‘It’s open, I’m home.’

The words drift down the stairs, and Minhyuk rolls off the bed, making his way towards the stair, past the door at the bottom that is never closed anymore, up into natural lighting.

‘How was your day?’ Minhyuk asks, pausing to run a finger along the shiny green leaf of the pot plant next to the upper door before heading into the lounge, where Ilhoon is sitting on the couch, his bare feet up.

Ilhoon cracks an eye open. ‘It was okay,’ he replies, moving his legs so Minhyuk can settle in on the other side of the couch.

The corner of Minhyuk’s lips turn up. ‘Better now?’ he asks, teasing mirth in his voice.

Ilhoon rolls his eyes, a smile flitting around his lips. ‘Infinitely,’ he remarks dryly.

Minhyuk grins. ‘That’s what I like to hear.’ He leans forward, and is satisfied when Ilhoon raises himself up slightly to press his lips to Minhyuk’s, nipping lightly at his bottom lip.

Ilhoon tugs the collar of Minhyuk’s t-shirt to the side when they pull apart, his eyes running over Minhyuk’s neck.

‘You’ve got quite a mark there,’ he remarks, and Minhyuk glances uninterestedly and futilely in the vague direction of Ilhoon’s gaze.

‘Yeah? I didn’t notice.’ He often doesn’t, they’re common, after all.

Ilhoon leans back against the armrest again. ‘I like it.’

Minhyuk snorts. ‘Of course you do. You made it.’  
Ilhoon grins, teeth glinting like his eyes. ‘I like seeing proof you’re mine.’

Old electricity thrums through Minhyuk, a rush that has never disappeared, but has faded enough for Minhyuk to be able to breath. Most of the time, at least.

‘Always yours,’ he breaths, and Ilhoon stretches his legs out, pulling Minhyuk towards him with his heels. He kisses him again, deeper this time, hand fisted in Minhyuk’s shirt, the back of Minhyuk’s collar digging into his neck.

Ilhoon’s lips left his and trailed down his neck, sucking where Minhyuk assumes the mark was, a small gasp escaping Minhyuk’s lips- the debilitating rush might have faded, but Ilhoon’s effect on him hasn’t.

When Ilhoon pushes him back, Minhyuk’s breath is catching in his throat and there’s a smirk on Ilhoon’s face.

‘Should we order in?’ he asks innocently, triumph glittering in his eyes.

\--

_a whimper slips from between his lips as he feels the soft warmth of ilhoon’s arms and thighs above and below his legs, the feeling of skin against skin causing his breath to catch in his throat._

\--

Minhyuk played with the thread bracelets on his right wrist, twisting the multi-coloured entwined strands around his fingers, thumb brushing ne’er undone knots and matted bunches of thread as he watched that afternoon’s footage, his eyes caressing a face that never faced the camera full on, chewing on his lip as a tongue licked frothed milk off the lips onscreen.

The camera shakily zoomed in, elegant fingers idly stroking the side of a paper cup filling the screen, silver ring adorning one of then- a medium sized ring that bordered on ostentatious and Minhyuk figured it must be a fairly recent acquisition. He didn’t recognise it.

His mind flitted as one of the unadorned fingers juddered down the cup, moving in miniscule fractions of a measurement, getting stuck on non-existent ridges and crevices, and Minhyuk tugged on one of his ensnarled threaded rainbows a bit hard, his finger slipping as his mind conjured up images of that hand wandering up his thigh, fingers slowly stroking their way up, up, up, and his finger nail collided harshly with one of the wooden beads threaded on the leather thong on his wrist, buried among the soft kaleidoscope of coloured thread, when the camera focus jittered and shuddered out and moved up and Minhyuk’s mind replaced the temperature-less hands with warm lips moving up, up, up and his breath caught in his throat as his hand absently trailed the path his mind mapped out for the lips, his tongue poking at his finger that was caught between his teeth, his eyes still transfixed on the screen.

It was getting dark outside, streetlamps flickering on under a dimming sky and so Minhyuk allowed himself to dream as the hand onscreen rubbed at a neck brushed by caramel hair, a silver feather earring dangling from the one visible ear.

His fingers fiddled with his lips as he shifted in his chair, the fingers on his other hand tracing the skin above his jeans, his breath shuddering in his throat.

He lost himself as the camera followed the caramel haired boy through the glass as he walked away, the video restarting after he walked out of the frame, Minhyuk’s humid breaths the only sound in the room.

\--

_this is all he needs, minhyuk thinks, hands confidently rediscovering his body every time, sending shivers down his spine, nips and growls of ‘you’re perfect’ just permeating the air around them._

\--

Minhyuk hums as he tilts the jug, watering the pretty purple violets in the pot near the lounge windows, closing his eyes and basking in the glow from the late afternoon sun streaming in through the window briefly, before moving to the next pot, blue flowers in this one, with wider leaves.  
He leans in to smell the little white ones in the corner of the room, before giving them some water as well.

‘Hyung, this stupid plant is hanging everywhere.’ Ilhoon’s annoyed declaration drifts out from the kitchen and Minhyuk rolls his eyes, moving into the kitchen to see Ilhoon scowling at the low lying plant, strands of heart-shaped leaves hanging down on the counter.

‘If it’s annoying you here, we can just move it,’ Minhyuk says, already thinking about where to put it.

‘I don’t understand your fascination with plants, seriously, the house is covered with them,’ Ilhoon remarks, gazing balefully at the plant as he sips his coffee.

‘I like them,’ Minhyuk replies, reaching for the pot plant. ‘I like the way they open up, reach up to the sun. I like the colours, I like the way they smell. They’re pretty.’

‘This one doesn’t even have flowers,’ Ilhoon points out, and Minhyuk shrugs.

‘It’s still pretty. The leaves look like hearts.’

Ilhoon rolls his eyes. ‘Whatever, as long as I don’t have to look after them,’ he mutters and walks past Minhyuk, clutching his coffee.

‘I suppose they do brighten the place up,’ comes the begrudging call from the lounge and Minhyuk grins.

Sometimes he thinks he’s like the flowers, reaching towards that shining light- only he doesn’t reach towards the sun, but towards Ilhoon.

He’ll never tell him, but he’s never felt more alive than when he has Ilhoon’s attention, and he thinks before this, way back when he was still sitting in a coffee shop, he was merely a simulacrum of what he is now.

He puts the plant on the table outside the door to the basement, replacing it in the kitchen with one that doesn’t hang over the edge of the pot.

\--

_fingers brush lightly, scrawling poetry on hipbones and writing love stories across the ribs, while ilhoon’s tongue traces soaring descants on his collarbones._

\--

He’d changed his hair, Minhyuk noticed, cut it so that it was brushing just above his eyes and just over his ears and no longer curling at the nape of his neck, and dyed it an almost purple brown. Minhyuk tilted his head, eyes glancing over the top of his camera, mulling over how he felt about it before deciding he liked it.

He’d almost missed him, his eyes passing over the unfamiliar haircut without paying much attention before snapping back abruptly, familiar lips registering in his periphery as he walked past.  
The boy was earlier than expected as well, already in the queue when Minhyuk collected his coffee, and Minhyuk knew he wasn’t late (he double-checked the time) so the boy was early, early early early- and that had never happened before.

Right now the boy’s coffee cup sat next to him on the bench, seemingly forgotten as he leaned back, hands hanging down from elbows resting on the back of the bench, head joining them, neck stretched and exposed, inviting the camera focus to traverse its length, zoomed in on muscles moving as lips parted, Minhyuk unconsciously mirroring the action.

His tongue nervously wet his lips, his eyes steadfastly fixed on the small camera screen, focus widening, taking in all of the boy soaking in the sun, intermittent as it may have been, filtering through the tree leaves above him and casting mottled shadows on his face.

Minhyuk's thumb absentmindedly ran over his camera screen, imagining he could feel his breath be whisked away by the breeze that ruffled the freshly dyed hair, before zooming in as close as he could before details got too grainy, stray strands of hair dancing in the heaven's breath.

The picture moved, catching a cheek, the silver feather earring dangling from an ear, a hint of exposed collarbone peeking out from underneath the neck of a t-shirt. An arm, decorated with a shadowy motif of softly swaying leaves, a wrist, unadorned, and a relaxed hand, fingers tapping out an unidentifiable melody on the wood of the bench before stilling and dropping into inertia again. The frame moved quickly, back to the neck, no longer stretched out, the hint of a chin, before moving up and capturing piercing eyes, pools of dark brown, framed by soft eyelashes, looking into the camera lens, and Minhyuk felt a tingle run up his spine.

He swallowed and slowly raised his gaze, looking over his camera, locking gazes with the boy for the first time, his blood running hot and cold and electric under his skin, his breath threatening to give out on him (maybe it already had, he couldn't tell). The boy didn't smile. He didn't frown. His face remained neutral, showing no intent, no discontent, nothing, and Minhyuk's breathing came back, sped up and shallow.  
He couldn't look away, he couldn't break eye contact, he was stuck, frozen in time, paralysed by a fathomless stare that made his every cell hum discordant tunes.

He didn't know how long he sat there, eyes fixed on the boy's, the trembling adrenalin that raced around his veins cooling into a low-level thrum, his breath hiccupping out irregularly but efficiently.

The current freezing him in place was abruptly broken when another patron stumbled and bumped into him, apologising and stammering and blushing and Minhyuk had to be polite as he offered placation's, couldn't bring himself not to be, even when he wanted to get rid of the girl as quickly as possible, but she was so embarrassed, so contrite, he couldn't snap at her, and she was gone quite quickly anyway, a whirlwind of activity that stood in stark contrast to the hurricane's eye in which Minhyuk had been previously caught.

But when he looked back, barely a minute later, the boy was gone, with no evidence he'd been there at all.

Minhyuk almost upended the table in his haste to leave, head whipping around frantically when he got outside- but there was nothing.

Despite the disappointment rising in his throat, Minhyuk still felt goosebumps rise on his arms when he remembered those eyes affixed to his.

\--

_palms smooth over minhyuk’s thighs, lips mouthing illegible scribbling’s across hipbones, goosebumps shimmering up his spine as ilhoon blows softly along his stomach._

\--

‘I’m making supper,’ Minhyuk murmurs when arms encircle his waist, slipping under his shirt, Ilhoon’s hair tickling his ear as the younger man leans his head down to lay a kiss on his neck.

‘I don’t care,’ Ilhoon mumbles into Minhyuk’s neck, rocking lightly against him as fingers splayed over toned muscles.

Minhyuk doesn’t respond, his lips curling into a slight smile as he slowly and deliberately continues cutting.

‘Minhyuk,’ Ilhoon growls, the gravel in his voice turning warning and dangerous, and Minhyuk holds his breath as he brings the knife down again.

With a jerk of his hips, Ilhoon slams Minhyuk painfully into the kitchen counter, fingers digging into his sides and a breathless choked chuckle escapes Minhyuk.

‘Okay, okay,’ he manages, dropping the knife, his hands flat on the counter as he sucks in the breath that had been knocked out of him.

Ilhoon lets up, turning Minhyuk around and backing him into another counter. ‘Why do you insist on testing me,’ he murmurs, breath warm on Minhyuk’s lips. ‘You know I don’t like it.’

‘Sorry,’ Minhyuk breaths, a wave of tingles running down his back.

‘Mmm,’ Ilhoon hums, eyes fixed on Minhyuk’s lips. ‘At least you always give in.’

He crushes his lips to Minhyuk’s, tongues tangling as Minhyuk’s arms slip around the taller man’s neck, counter top digging into his back ignored.

Ilhoon’s hands roam under Minhyuk’s shirt again for a few seconds before coming up as he nips at Minhyuk’s lip.

Their lips separate briefly, hot breaths mingling as Ilhoon slips his arms up between Minhyuk’s, pushing them apart and off his neck, and he captures Minhyuk’s lips again as he pins his hands to the counter behind him, grinding against him, eliciting a whimper.

Minhyuk gasps in a breath as Ilhoon’s mouth attacks his neck, and feels Ilhoon’s hand pressing down on his shoulder, only breath tickling his neck.

Ilhoon huffs a short sigh and runs a hand through Minhyuk’s hair, tugging lightly at the back, before placing his hands on Minhyuk’s shoulder and applying pressure.

Minhyuk bucks lightly, and Ilhoon shuffles back slightly, and Minhyuk drops to his knees, Ilhoon’s fingers already threading through his hair.

‘I love you,’ Minhyuk murmurs against Ilhoon’s lips afterwards, his voice rougher than usual from a throat that was slightly sore.

Ilhoon chuckles, all smiles, and swipes his thumb across the corner of Minhyuk’s mouth.

‘Weren’t you making supper?’ Ilhoon says, grin flitting around his lips, and Minhyuk gives a little laugh.

‘Yeah,’ he agrees and Ilhoon crinkles his nose in a grin at him, brushing the front of his hair straight with his fingers and giving Minhyuk a light kiss and moving towards the door.

‘I’ll leave you to it then.’ Ilhoon flashes him a wink and wanders out the kitchen, leaving Minhyuk nodding at an empty room, before exhaling a laugh and turning back to the food.

\--

_minhyuk’s back arches, shivers racing along his skin, even as a tongue sooths where teeth caught his thigh, hands solid on his hips, shoulders solid under his knees, his control as far from solid as it could ever be._

\--

Minhyuk yawned as he trudged towards his front door, tiredness already dissipating from his bones as eagerness to rewatch the most recent video crept through him. He’d watched it numerous times when he’d returned home the day before, but that didn’t quell his excitement whenever those eyes faced the camera dead on.

The camera focus had slipped a bit when he’d taken his eye off the monitor, catching only a corner of an eye and the side of a face, but had been completely upturned when the girl had collided with him, and the last minute of the film was a uncomfortably close shot of the table, but Minhyuk kept playing back the second of the collision in his mind’s eye- he was almost certain that there had been the ghost of an upturned lip onscreen before the woodgrain eclipsed the view.

His keys were in his hand several steps from his door, but he was still left standing in front of the door trying almost every key on the keyring in the lock- he could never remember which one was which, and his habit of not removing keys no longer in use worked against him when all he wanted to do was get inside.

Finally, the key turned, and he reached for the door handle, pushing the door open with his shoulder- and froze when the door was halfway open, his attention caught by what was at eye level on the door.

There was no fear in his veins when he reached up and traced the fresh grooves in his door, only curiosity and surprise as splinters broke off under his touch.

His finger caressed the earring that punctuated the words, the part normally holding it in an ear bent from where it had been wedged into the door, silver feather knocking soundlessly against the wood from Minhyuk’s perusal of it, the familiarity of it sending tingles up his arm.

The tingles seemed to kickstart his heart, and suddenly it was beating a million miles a minute, blood thrumming in his ears and his breath shortening in his lungs, adrenalin and excitement spurring him to reach blindly for the doorframe, his eyes still fixed on the curves and swoops of the gouges in his door.

_How many hours do you have of me._

\--

_dark eyes look up and draw minhyuk in, and he thinks he could drown in their depths, and he doesn’t look away until he can make out the difference between brown and black, until the eyes drop down again, nose burying into minhyuk’s stomach._

\--

The curtains are open and the moon is almost full, silvery light flooding the bedroom, allowing Minhyuk to admire Ilhoon’s sleeping face with little effort. He looks younger when he’s sleeping, Minhyuk thinks, and resists the urge to reach out and touch his face.

Lying back, Minhyuk lets out a sigh and snuggles into the blanket, eyes darting over to Ilhoon every so often.

Minhyuk is selfish, he thinks, selfish selfish selfish.

He wants Ilhoon all to himself, he wants Ilhoon’s attention on him and only him.

Before, whenever that was, he was content to just watch, just look. He could dream, but he was content.

Now, he has more than he ever dreamed of, and still he wants more.

He’s addicted, addicted to the attention Ilhoon lavishes him with every now and then, he’s had a taste and now he wants it all the time.

He feels like the only person in the world when Ilhoon touches him, and he thinks maybe he should feel guilty for being so selfish, to want that all the time.

He doesn’t.

He doesn’t feel guilty as he turns onto his side to look at Ilhoon, he doesn’t feel guilty as he wants more, he doesn’t feel guilty as his fingers creep across the bed sheets. He’s never felt guilty about anything to do with Ilhoon, never felt much other than excitement and butterflies.

And love. It has to be love, the all-consuming effect Ilhoon has on him. He’ll do anything to make Ilhoon happy, because if Ilhoon is happy, he’ll make Minhyuk happy. Ilhoon still makes fire burn in Minhyuk’s veins, so it has to be love.

A smile creeps onto Minhyuk’s face as Ilhoon’s lips fall apart in his sleep, and he reaches out, trailing his fingers lightly over the blanket, following the shape of Ilhoon’s thighs, and Ilhoon shifts in his sleep.

Minhyuk’s fingers dance up Ilhoon’s bare arms, and Ilhoon’s lips twist into a frown, so Minhyuk reaches up and smooth’s his thumb over Ilhoon’s lower lip, straightening it out.

Ilhoon’s forehead creases and his eyes blearily blink open.

‘Why are you still awake?’ he mumbles, his voice even rougher than usual. ‘Go to sleep.’

Minhyuk smiles as Ilhoon shifts, turning to face the other side and muttering something about the moon before pulling the blankets over his head.

‘Night,’ Minhyuk whispers and Ilhoon gives a slight grunt in response.

Minhyuk finally closes his eyes, content even though he wants more.

Right now, Ilhoon is only his.

\--

_a kiss that has so much heat it has to leave an imprint, an indelible mark burnt into his skin, a lip stain branded above his navel, as unique as any fingerprint._

\--

The earring lived in Minhyuk’s pocket, the shine dimming from the silver feather from rolling it around between his fingers constantly. The words on his door looked old, from the amount of time he had traced them with his fingers, eyes crinkling as he smiled, his blood effervescent in his veins.

His fingers tapped out the seconds passing on the clock as he waited, trying to convince himself he wasn’t more anxious for time to pass than usual- but only half-heartedly, and when it was close enough, he gathered his stuff, his hand hovering over his camera uncertainly before grabbing it and walking out his front door.

He glanced around as he entered the coffee shop, searching for a head of almost purple brown hair- but he didn’t see one as he settled into the queue.

‘Lee Minhyuk?’ one of the barista’s called, and Minhyuk glanced up in surprise to see one of the barista’s waving him over. He glanced at the people ahead of him in line uncertainly before heading over to her.

‘You’re Lee Minhyuk, right?’ she asked when he got to the counter and he nodded.

‘Yes. I don’t-‘

‘Your friend already paid for your coffee, he left it here for you,’ the girl said, handing him a paper cup.

‘My friend?’ Minhyuk repeated, hesitantly taking the cup.

‘Yeah, your friend. Big eyes, brownish kinda hair. He knows you well, it’s barely had time to cool,’ she laughed, her attention already sliding onto the next customer.

Minhyuk’s breath caught and he nodded numbly.  
‘Thank you.’

He looked down at the coffee again when he’d taken his normal chair, and took a sip as he looked around the shop again (just a hint of milk, one and a half sachets of sugar, perfect), his heart palpitating in his chest.

He could hear the blood rushing in his ears, hear every heartbeat beating in his ears like a drum, drowning out all other sounds when he caught sight of the scribbled words on the cup.

_How many do you want._

\--

_teeth tug at his earlobe, breaths floating along his jawline, and minhyuk chokes out a moan, amazed his lungs are still working, because he’s sure all his breath has been stolen from him._

\--

Ilhoon shrugs off Minhyuk’s hand on his shoulder, rolling it as if to rid himself of the feeling.

He flinches when Minhyuk runs his fingers across the back of his neck, reaching back to swat at his hand, flashing a disgruntled glance at Minhyuk.

‘Stop,’ he says, when the light jingle heralds the approach of Minhyuk’s hand.

Undeterred, Minhyuk simply redirects his hand, running his hand up Ilhoon’s arm instead, feeling it tense under his touch.

‘Hyung, please stop,’ Ilhoon scowls.

Minhyuk subsides, his eyes tracing the lines of Ilhoon’s face. The respite lasts a minute at most, before Minhyuk’s fingers are picking a trail up Ilhoon’s leg.

‘Minhyuk-‘ Ilhoon bites out impatiently, jerking his leg to dislodge Minhyuk’s hand.

Minhyuk shifts closer, Ilhoon letting out a groan when Minhyuk rests his chin on his shoulder.

‘Off,’ he mutters tiredly, pushing Minhyuk’s face away from him.

‘I just want to touch you, is that a bad thing?’ Minhyuk asks, nudging his knee against Ilhoon’s thigh.

‘Yes,’ Ilhoon replies petulantly.

Minhyuk pouts. ‘Is it wrong to want to touch the person I love?’ he says, running his fingers down Ilhoon’s arm.

Ilhoon grabs his wrist and turns, pushing backwards, pinning Minhyuk to the couch, eyes glinting dangerously, making Minhyuk’s blood spark.

‘I said-‘ Ilhoon growls, and stops himself, glaring at Minhyuk before exhaling, his eyes falling shut briefly.

‘Hyung, I like touching you, I don’t need you to touch me.’ Ilhoon’s words are laced in honey.

‘Don’t need me to, or don’t want me to?’ Minhyuk asks huffily.

Ilhoon leans down and brushes his lips lightly against Minhyuk’s.

‘I know you love me, you don’t need to prove it.’ Ilhoon releases Minhyuk’s wrists and pushes himself up, off Minhyuk, going back to watching tv.

Minhyuk rights himself and sits in the corner of the couch, his arms folded over himself.

Ilhoon glances over after a while and rolls his eyes. ‘Oh, for crying out loud, come here,’ he says, reaching over and tugging Minhyuk’s arm, pulling Minhyuk to his side, arm around Minhyuk’s shoulder. ‘Stop sulking.’

Minhyuk leans his head tentatively on Ilhoon’s shoulder, lips curling into a smile when there’s no protest.

He can keep his hands to himself.

\--

_air catches in minhyuk’s lungs as fingers leave cool trails along heated skin, solid enough to be real, light enough to be ethereal, dizzying enough to cause his heart to stutter in his chest._

\--

The boy hadn’t appeared by the time Minhyuk had finished his coffee, and he tried to quell the disappointment rising in his throat, resisting the urge to pout as he gathered his stuff.

He’d been drinking the coffee as slowly as he could, and if the boy hadn’t arrived yet, Minhyuk guessed he wasn’t going to.

He stood up, gripping the table when his head felt like it rose slightly slower than his body, throwing him temporarily off balance before he felt secure enough to leave, dismissing the dizziness as him having sat there a bit too long, excitement fizzling in his veins.

He’d gotten about half a block away from the coffee shop when it happened again- he turned to look at something that caught his eye, and his being was delayed, the action happening and his body scrambling to catch up, leaving him slightly disconcerted.

He shook his head to clear it- which proved to be a mistake as he stumbled, dizziness whirling around in his head and chest, his extremities simultaneously tingling and numb. He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing through his mouth, leaning against the wall for little while before he felt he could move on.

Focussing on the pavement before him was difficult, and he left a support hand on the wall as he slowly moved forward. He stopped again after a few steps, his chin dropping to his chest as he inhaled deeply, his free hand coming up to rub at his eyes.

He raised his head and breathed deeply, willing himself to focus on walking, his eyes only on the pavement, on moving one foot in front of the other, everything else a blur rushing past on either side of him, his legs moving briskly, his mind intent on the task at hand.

Two blocks away from the coffee shop and he leaned heavily against the nearest wall, his forehead creased as he allowed his soul to catch up with his body, his body to catch up with his mind and intentions. He reached for his phone, the display swimming in front of his eyes, intending on calling someone- anyone- because crossing the road in front of him seemed an insurmountable task.

His limbs were heavy, and he was almost ready to give up the fight to stay standing as he stared at his phone, trying to remember how to use it, trying to get it to stay in one place as it alternated between in his hands and worlds away, his eyes struggling to adjust.

Then the phone was no longer in his hand and he dropped his head back against the wall, exhausted and almost relieved to be rid of it.

He thought he felt a warmth at his waist, and the wall shrank to a thin bar across his back as the world shifted under his feet, and his legs appeared to be moving of their own accord and there was something for him to lean his forehead against as he moved, universes spinning inside his skull, his skin contracting and releasing with a ripple of tingles every few seconds, cool streaks running down his back only to be chased by singing heat spiralling away.

He tried to open his eyes, and he thought he saw a flash of almost purple before he gave up and everything went black.

\--

_fingers explore his body, caressing his collarbone, circling his nipple, stroking his arms, tickling his sides, drawing gasps and whimpers from him, hitches in his breath, only for it all to be repeated when the path is followed by soft lips and a damp tongue._

\--

Minhyuk is reading on the bed when he hears the door, and then footsteps, and he blinks in surprise.

Ilhoon almost never comes downstairs anymore.

A smile blooms on Minhyuk’s face as Ilhoon appears in the doorway.

‘Hi,’ Ilhoon says, and Minhyuk murmurs an answering greeting and puts his book aside as Ilhoon steps closer.

The roses seem to glow brighter when Ilhoon is in the room, as if they’re trying to get his attention, and if he ever gave in to their desperate plea, Minhyuk would rip them to shreds without a second thought, no matter how much the softly luminescent pink comforts him when he is alone.

But he doesn’t notice them, instead sitting at the end of the bed, eyes fixed on Minhyuk.

‘Are you home early? It feels early,’ Minhyuk comments, and Ilhoon shrugs.

‘Little bit. Wanted to see you.’

Minhyuk tilts his head, warm glow starting in his stomach. ‘You see me every day.’

Ilhoon’s lips pull up in a smile. ‘Today’s special,’ he remarks, fiddling with a loose thread on the blanket.

‘How so?’ Minhyuk asks. He isn’t aware of any significance of the day.

Ilhoon just shakes his head, moving closer and running a hand up the back of his calf.

‘It’s not important,’ he breathes, leaning closer to Minhyuk. ‘Not now.’

The kiss is slow, and almost thoughtful, and Minhyuk’s eyes are closed as he brings his hands up to cup Ilhoon’s cheeks.

Ilhoon moves closer, slowly pushing Minhyuk down onto the bed as his tongue delves deeper into his mouth, settling between Minhyuk’s thighs, hand sliding up the side of Minhyuk’s torso.

‘How long have you been here?’ Ilhoon asks, his voice barely above a whisper, his lips pressing kisses to Minhyuk’s jaw and neck.

‘I don’t know,’ Minhyuk replies, only half his mind on the question, his eyes fluttering shut as Ilhoon moves, rocking just once against him. ‘Why, is it our anniversary or something?’

Ilhoon’s chuckle sends vibrations along the top of Minhyuk’s chest, stopped by his collarbones.

‘Didn’t we already celebrate that?’

Minhyuk’s chuckle consists of air. ‘Maybe.’

Ilhoon pushes Minhyuk’s shirt up, lips marking increments of skin as they’re exposed.

‘You’re quite something, Lee Minhyuk,’ he murmurs into Minhyuk’s stomach, low voice a contrast to the light jingles that are the only other sound in the room.

Minhyuk’s breath leaps from his throat in a happy burst, warmth circling along his skin.

Ilhoon slides Minhyuk’s shirt off, the palms of his hands spreading the warmth along Minhyuk’s arms.

Shirt discarded, Ilhoon gazes down at Minhyuk, and strokes his jawline with the back of his fingers, causing Minhyuk’s breath to catch in his throat.

Ilhoon’s kiss is laced with heat.

\--

_minhyuk’s hands slip over shoulder blades, drawing ilhoon closer, closer until he thinks they’re a microfraction away from melding into one._

\--

Glowing roses swam in front of his eyes as he battled to get them open, sleep fogging his brain, his limbs practically dead-weights.

He managed to open his eyes fully, and lay on his back, staring at the roses- they were material, he saw, lots of pink petals grouped around a tiny fairy light bulb, a chain of them linked together by twisted black wire, and Minhyuk could only stare at them, making them his focal point, as his soul and body connected again, slowly waking up.

He didn’t recognise them, he decided after a while, and by then he had enough control and energy to manipulate his body, so he slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position, his eyes adjusting from staring at the lights, dim as they might have been. Spots flashed in his vision as he peered into the darkness.

There were only vague shapes, light from the roses not reaching far. There were no windows, and the room was grey cement and pillars, except for the carpet on the floor.

The bed was the only piece of furniture in the room, blankets pooled around his waist, and Minhyuk’s body tensed as the slow realisation that _he had no idea where he was_ sunk in.

He grasped at his pocket for his phone unsuccessfully- it wasn’t there- and a small jingle made him look down, his nerves jolting him to full awareness at the unexpected sound in the silent room.

He looked around sharply, his hand raised in a poor imitation of defence, and he heard the jingle again when he moved, and his eyes fell on his wrist.

There was a new bracelet among his standard ones, green and blue and purple threads entwined together, the gleam of new thread not having had time to fade like the others. Plaited in with the threads were small bells, green and blue and purple and gold, shining in the light from the fairy lights and Minhyuk hiccupped a fearful breath, panic beginning to rise in his veins.

His head snapped up as he heard a sound, a muffled thump, and his eyes made out the shape of a door, what sounded like footsteps on stairs, and he curled his legs underneath him, ready to jump, run, attack, panic whipping into near hysteria in every fibre of his being.

The door opened and before he could make out more than a vague shape, light flooded the room, making him shield his eyes reflexively, and he blinked a few times, trying to adjust to the sudden change in lighting.

He heard a chuckle, and looked sharply in the direction of the sound, indignant fear running hot under his skin- and fading, replaced with confused elation as he took in a familiar figure, a face he knew almost as well as his own.

An amused smirk graced the lips of the boy from the coffee shop as he leaned against the support pillar closest to the bed.

‘You’re awake,’ he said, and Minhyuk felt his heart leap at the sound of the voice he’d wondered about- almost high, but with an undertone of gravel, the combination sending electricity racing around Minhyuk’s body. ‘Sorry, I wanted to be here when you woke up. Thought it might calm you.’

‘No, it’s okay,’ Minhyuk managed, speaking without thinking, responding automatically. ‘I just- I don’t-‘ He didn’t know what he wanted to say, he didn’t know what he wanted to know, too entranced by the boy -man, he supposed- in front of him.

The boy moved, settling on the end of the bed.

‘I’ve noticed you from the beginning, Minhyuk-hyung- can I call you hyung?’

Minhyuk nodded numbly, his breathing erratic and jumpy from the proximity.  
The boy smiled. ‘I should probably introduce myself. I’m Ilhoon.’

Minhyuk stared at the hand held out, his mind still trying to frantically process everything, and the boy- Ilhoon- chuckled again.

‘I realise this is rather unorthodox- but I think that suits us, don’t you?’ A teasing smile showed Ilhoon’s teeth, and Minhyuk felt a laugh bubble up from his throat.

‘Anyway, if you’re okay with it, you’re going to be staying here from now on.’ The light warmth in Ilhoon’s voice had an underlying dark coolness, and Minhyuk swallowed, excitement sparking.

‘With you?’ His voice cracked, and Ilhoon’s grin widened, canines glinting in the light.

‘Of course.’

Minhyuk nodded frantically, and smug satisfaction bloomed on Ilhoon’s face.

‘I thought you’d agree.’ Ilhoon shifted closer, and Minhyuk’s heart sped up as his lungs forgot to work, along with his limbs.

‘This may seem forward, but I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while. May I?’ Ilhoon’s voice was barely louder than a murmur, eyes fixed on Minhyuk’s, stealing his ability to do anything but give the merest hint of a nod.

As Ilhoon’s lips touched his, setting every nerve in his body alight, Minhyuk knew that this was exactly where he was meant to be.

\--

_thighs clenched around ilhoon’s waist, minhyuk’s face buried in his shoulder, muffling moans that sound like sobs as he rocks against him, barely moving but sending jolts of electricity up minhyuk’s spine nonetheless, and minhyuk is certain that every inch of him has been caressed by ilhoon’s touch, anointed by his lips, and victim to the roiling sensations he’s inflicted on him._

\--

‘So why is today special?’ Minhyuk asks, curled up against Ilhoon, basking in the afterglow.

Ilhoon just gives an amused snort. ‘Are you thirsty?’ he asks.

Minhyuk laughs. ‘I could be,’ he replies.

‘I’ll get you something to drink,’ Ilhoon says, rolling off the bed and heading upstairs.

Minhyuk smiles, his body relaxed and tingling. He’s happy, as close to blissful as he thinks he’s ever felt.

The creaking of the stairs herald Ilhoon’s return, and Minhyuk crinkles his eyes at him, feeling lazy.

‘Here,’ Ilhoon says, handing Minhyuk a glass, which he accepts gratefully.

‘It tastes a bit odd. Not bad, just different,’ Minhyuk comments, crinkling in forehead at the water in contemplation.

‘Just drink it,’ Ilhoon tells him, and so Minhyuk does.

‘Thanks,’ he says, leaning back on the pillow, and Ilhoon smiles, and Minhyuk thinks it seems as if there’s a private joke.

‘What’s funny?’

Ilhoon shakes his head. ‘Nothing.’

Minhyuk shrugs, his bones slowly beginning to turn into cement as he lies there, watching Ilhoon trace patterns on his foot.

‘I can’t feel it anymore,’ Minhyuk comments idly after a while, and Ilhoon glances upwards, his smile laced with… almost sadness, Minhyuk thinks, although he can’t think why.

‘You can’t?’

Minhyuk shakes his head, and Ilhoon moves closer, reaching forward to play with Minhyuk’s hand- funny, he can’t feel that either.

‘You know, we’ve had fun,’ Ilhoon comments, and Minhyuk frowns with effort.

‘Had?’ Minhyuk’s voice almost gives out on him, and he closes his eyes briefly, feeling light headed.

‘I think it’s time for me to let go.’ Minhyuk’s eyes open at Ilhoon’s words, and those dark eyes are fixed on him, and Minhyuk sees pink lips move again.

‘We’re done for this lifetime.’

The words float in the air and Minhyuk understands, understands the heavy numbness creeping through his body, and he looks at Ilhoon, eyes apologetic, and he can’t bring himself to fight it.

‘I did love you.’

A breathy imitation of a laugh escapes Minhyuk’s throat.

He can’t hold his head up anymore, his lungs struggling, fighting for air, panicking without reason.

_Maybe he’ll put flowers on my grave._

The thought idly drifts through his mind as he hears rather than feels Ilhoon move, blankets shifting, and Ilhoon’s face appears above his, and he’s glad he can still feel his hand on his cheek.

Ilhoon leans down and kisses him lightly, tenderly, thumb stroking his cheek.

‘See you in the afterlife, Lee Minhyuk,’ Ilhoon whispers.

The last thing Minhyuk sees before the darkness claims him are glowing pink roses, little fairy lights winking at him from their cloth beds.

\--

_you’re perfect; but not enough. sorry._


End file.
